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Heart Sketches, 



BY 



ALICE IvANCASTER. 



" World voicevS east, world voicCvS west, 
They call thee heart, from thine early rest. 
Come hither, come hither and be our guest. 

Heart, wilt thou go ? 

* No ! No ! 

Good hearts, are calmer so.' " 

— Mrs. Brownina. 



TWO COPIES RECEIVEJD. 

Library of CODgrdii^ 
OffUt of tits 

FEB 8 - 1909 

KegUUr of Cspyrlgkfft 



58777 






COPYRIGHT BY THE 
AUTHOR. 






Contents, 



INTRODUCTION, 

i. FROM OUT THE GLOOM. 

2. THE WILD ROSE'S SECRET. 

3. THE SPIRIT OF PEACE. 

4. AT THE SUNSET HOUR. 

5. "DON." 

6. COMPLETENESS. 
"]: THE BRIDAL. 



Introduction, ^ A^ 

T^HE following pages are offered to what 
the Author trusts wdll prove a kind 
public ; not entireh' to gratify- aspirations 
to authorship, but more to preserve, perhaps 
for onl}- a brief period, a few thoughts 
brought from the realm of imagination, 
with the exception of slight local touches 
suggested by real places and events. 

The Author. 



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\\ I f^ 



k 



From Out the Gloom, 



Wearied with the glitter and empty show of a 
bUvSy city, and worn with the rush and turmoil of 
crowded streets, a woman stepped from amidst the 
jostling throng into the quietness of one of the great 
churches that f^tood on the fashionable thoroughfare, 
whither she had come for a promenade. 

As she walked up the dimly lighted aisle, the 
silence unbroken, save by the rustle of her owm silken 
skirts, fell like a balm on her world-saddened spirit. 

Setting down in a luxuriously cushioned pew, 
not far from the richly ornate altar, her thoughts 
were soon far away from the scenes that had so re- 
centh' surrounded her, and she was once more a 
merr}^ thoughtless girl, seated on the step of her 
obscure birthplace wdiere she so often watched for the 
home coming of her father's teams. Once more she 
hears through the open window the mother's croon- 
ing of a gentle lullab}' to the little sister, who for so 

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FROM OUT THE CxLOOM. 
nian^- 3'ears has been sleeping in the quiet church 
3'ard adjoining the little church, around which clus- 
ters the most sacred of her life's memories. Again 
she hears the kindly tones of her father's voice speak- 
ing to the faithful horses, as he was wont Ho release 
them from the burdens of the day. Again she feels 
the kindly touch of his hand resting in silent greet- 
ing on her rebellious curls, and again the warm good 
night kiss from her mother is fresh on her lips. 

But suddenh' from out the solemn gloom of the 
place, there breaks across her reveries the sound of 
glad music. A master's hand has touched the great 
organ, and the notes steal into her wearied soul with 
rest and sweetness. Butgradualh' there rises in the 
strain a harshness. A discord as of the World's sor- 
rows has crept in, and there comes before her all the 
darkness of life's grief that has crossed her path since 
the loved ones of whom she has been dreaming 
were her companions. And she remembers the 
host of sad and loneU' ones in the great cit}-, who 

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FROM OUT THE Gl.OOM. 

not only dwell in the gloom of sorrow and loneliness, 
but whose paths have not been cast in pleasant places 
nor gilded wnth the riches of earth, and there rises in 
her heart the resolve no more to seek happiness sel- 
fishly in the glory of empty baubles, but to seek 
those in need of comfort, to cheer the sad and help 
the suffering, and thus forget her own heart sorrows. 
Then as if in harmony with her thoughts and in pro- 
phecy of future 3-ears, the music rises in clear, 
triumphant notes of joy, and with firm and high 
resolves controlling the purposes of her heart, she 
steps from out the gloom feeling that a holiness has 
met her that will continue with her for manv davs. 




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The Wild Rose's Secret, 



One cool vSpring morning a tin}' wild rose sprang 
into life in an out of the wa}- corner of a rose garden, 
filled with rare cultivated roses. 

At first when the little rose became conscious of 
the luxuriant growth and witching perfume of the 
choice roses with which it was overshadowed, it was 
smitten sick to the very root to see how compara- 
tively valueless it must be, and it feign would have 
stopped its growth and withered awa\-. But this was 
not to be the fate of the wild rose, for the sunshine 
and the rain refreshed it and nourished it until one 
beautiful morning when the dew drops were spark- 
ling in the first rays of the rising sun, the little rose 
tree awoke to find itself covered with delicate tinted 
blossoms, and at last the little plant was contented. 
But when the sunbeams touched the dew drops and 
it was lighted by their brightness, it was more than 
contented; it was happ}'. 

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THE WIIvD ROSES SECRET. 

That afternoon when the owner came to walk in 
the garden, her glance found the wild rose plant and 
she exclaimed over the beauty of the bush and the 
exquisite delicacy of the blossoms, and vshe said vShe 
would take them to the great artist who lived near by 
and they w^ould give him much pleasure and he would 
make from them a beautiful picture that would glad- 
den the eyes and refresh the thoughts of many. Now 
the wild rose was • more than contented, more than 
happy; it was satisfied, for it had found a wonderful 
secret of successful living in giving joy to others.- 

* The above fancy which appeared la the "^Sub Alls Sto," 
1897, a paper published by the students of St. Gabriel's School, 
Peeksklll. N. Y., is purely imaginary, and is not a simile con- 
taining- any personal reference whatever, as the writer was 
somewhat annoyed by having thought at the time of its appear- 
ing then, and indeed there is not the slightest personal reference 
anywhere between these covers. 



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The Spirit of Peace, 



Just around the corner of a quiet street, in the 

village of W , there stands a plain Tittle brown 

house with a tiny yard in front. Through the gate 
and up the narrow path are frequentl}- turned the 
footsteps of those of earth's children who are burdened 
with sorrow^ laden hearts. 

There is no chapel here where painted windows 
stream rich lights from radiant skies, and no pictured 
Madonnas and hovering angels, but going up the 
stairs and turning to the right one enters a small, 
plainly furnished room. A little table stands on one 
side covered with a spread, delicately embroidered, 
the work of patient fingers. On it, beside a thin 
empt}' vase, there lies a devotional book bound in 
blue. Over the table there hangs a peaceful land- 
scape flooded with sunlight, and underneath which 
hangs a calendar. There are knitted rugs on the 

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THE SPIRIT OF PEACE. 

floor, a rocking chair stands by the window, and in 
one corner there is a vacant couch. The room has no 
occupant, but a spirit of peace is there. 

In the house there dwells a widowed mother, who 
has buried her only child, a daughter, in the strength 
of young womanhood, and with her lives a girl, a 
stranger, for whom she cares. There is no sadness 
here, however, for above the vacant couch, in silent 
triumph, over death, there hangs the text, "Praise 
the Lord." 

The earthly tabernacle is gone, but in this silent 
chamber one knows that the pure heart which once 
loved the objects before us, is with the one who gave 
it life, and is now pulsing with joys that are beyond 
the measure of our earthly understanding. Eva has 
gone but she still speaks to those who remain, for 
there are people who remember her ministries and 
find their way to this quiet spot, and who are refreshed 
by this silent sermon, for there is something here 
more winning than the glitter of wealth and the 
pomp of the world. It is the spirit of peace, which 
cannot be purchased. 

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At the Sunset Hour, 



Long golden sunbeams were falling aslant the 
couch where Bessie la}' watching the deepening glory 
of mountains and sk^-, as the sun was sinking rapid- 
h' to rest. 

The radiance of the hour but enhanced the holy 
calm that had settled on the invalid's face since the 
respite from suffering had been so recenth" granted, 
and in her e^-es was fast gathering a far away look 
that told onh' too plainh', that with the close of the 
beautiful autumnal day, there would go out from 
that household the jo^'ous light of Bessie's 
presence. 

At the foot of the couch sat the mother, cjuiet 
with the sublime quietness of resignation. At the 
side sat the sister, her hand resting lightly on 
Bessie's pulse, the growing weakness of which but 
served to wound more deeph', the aching heart, 
beating underneath the forced exterior calmness. 

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AT THE SUNvSET HOUR. 

The gorgeousness of the crimson and gold of the 
western skies has given place to translucent and 
opaline hues when Bessie's lips moved. Bending low 
the sister caught the words, "Sing, sister; sing the 
dear old hymn, ' Guide Me, O Thy Great Jehovah. ' " 

For an instant the hallowed hush remained un- 
broken, and then sweetly tremously came stealing 
through the room the grand old words: 

" Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah, 
Pilgrim through this barren land: 

I am weak, but Thou art mighty: 
Hold me with thy powerful hand. 
Bread of heaven. 

Feed me 'till I want no more. " 

More bravely came the words of the second verse 
of the hymn, and then so low and tremblingly the 
last words: 

" When I tread the verge of Jordan, 
Bid my anxious fears subside; 

Bear me through the swelling current; 
Land me safe on Canaan's side: 
Songs of praises 

I will ever give to thee. " 

The singing ceased. Bessie's e3'es were clo.sed as 
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AT THE SUNSET HOUR. 

though in slumber, but the spirit had gone out be- 
yond the shining glories of the sunset sky to bathe 
in the brightness of eternal da}', and to be where the 
angel 's songs are never ceasing. 






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Completeness. 



One bright summer day a youth, glad in the 
strength of his earl}^ manhood, confident in mental 
attainments, stepped from college halls determined 
that his life should be rounded into completeness, 
even though he forced it by his own human will. 

"Fame shall be mine," he said. Toil and 
patience were rewarded with deserved results and 
fame was his, but he knew incompleteness remained. 

He said: "I will seek w^ealth. " Riches came 
and worldly treasures in abundance were his. Jewels 
and precious metals were in his coffers, and men 
came and went at his command. But though wealth 
and fame were his, he felt there was still something 
beyond, ere his resolve should be fulfilled. 

" I will seek more wisdom," he said, and re- 
searches long and deep, stored his mind with all 

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COMPLETENESS. 

learning and knowledge, but conipletenevSS had still 
eluded him. 

Ivove came with its full measure of jo}' and con- 
tentment, and the sunny hours sped as though 
winged by the lightest zephj-rs. but even in the 
midst of happiness there remained a sense that he 
was- not in unison, and did not understand the great 
pulsing, throbbing problems of humanit3^ 

But sad eyed and somber-robed, sorrow canie^ 
and smote with firm and sudden touch each heart 
string, until response sweet and strong were hers. 
And now after 3'ears, when soul met soul in the deep 
places of life, he knew he need search no more, for 
completeness was his. 





^^US 




Don/' 



Donald, or " Don, " as everyboch' called him who 
knew the bright nrchin that sold papers on one of the 
wharfs of the big city, had never been in the countr}-. 
To be sure he had often w^ent to big parks where 
there was plenty of grass, with signboards, forbid- 
ding that you should tread upon it, and flowers and 
shrubs growing, but w4th policemen alwa3^s standing 
guard, so that one might not even touch them. And 
then there were some sweeping views of green fields 
there, that often seented to Don almost like visions 
of fairyland, but there w^ere always bare brick walls 
in sight and cutting off the view. Not that Don was 
a critical observer, for he had never seen field after 
field of rolling meadows and orchards, terminated 
onh' by mountains or tall trees. 

But now, at last, Don was going in the countr}' 
for two whole weeks. He was actually on the boat 

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"DON. " 

and sailing up the great river to where the kind lady 
Avas to meet him, who was to take him to her lovely 
coiintr}' home, and who had written to the cit}- mis- 
sionary- to send her just such a boy as Don. 

The first evening which was spent in that en- 
chanted spot, was one of traUvSporting pleasure. 
After being assured for the " dozenth " time that he 
could not only tread on the thickly growing grass, 
but that he could roll and play in it as well, Don's 
delight knew no bounds. 

Two whole da^'S had been spent in gathering 
flowers and watching the cows, and there yet re- 
mained wonderful rides behind the horses and moun- 
tain brooks to visit and the chickens and ducklings 
to come from the shell, when he came to his kind 
hostess and with a trembling lip expressed a wish 
to return to the cit3\ 

" Why," exclaimed the lady in surprise, "are 
you not happy here ? Your visit has only begun. 
What is the matter ' ' 

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"DON." 

" O, 3'es," said Don, "I like it here; 1113' mission 
teacher has told me about heaven and I think this 
must be most as good. But 3^ou see I have a brother 
there, younger than me, sick, down in the hospital, 
and ma is dead and pa has gone awa}', nobody knows 
where, and I alwa)^s went every night to see hirn, 
and I guess ma3^be he's lonesome without me, and 
since I've thought so, I'm not happ}^ here, and 
please, ma'ni, I'd like to go back where brother is, 
and I'd like to take him some daisies and violets if I 
ma\^ " 

So it happened, before the week was out, that 
Don, laden with sweet country trophies, stepped 
aboard the boat to return to the big city, because 
' ' brother ' ' was there. 






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The Bridal 



It is almost noon and the little church, with its 
tiny grass plot and old gray stepping stone in front, 
just off the narrow countr}^ road that winds past the 
little school house and up the hill to the nearest vil- 
lage, stands glistening white in the w^arni October 
sun. There is scarcely a chill of autumn in the air, 
and over on the hills that rise a short distance awav, 
there rests a slight purple haze, shading the brilliantly 
tinted trees that clothe their rugged sides, and giv- 
ing a suggestion of approaching Indian summer. 

Occasional carriages driving to and fro to deliver 
gaily dressed guCvSts who scatter about the door, give 
an unusual appearance of festivity to the quiet spot 
until we wonder its meaning, and learn that the time 
appointed for a wedding has arrived. 

A fair young girl, born in the shadow of the near 
by hills, and who has wended her wa}^ to the church 
and school from the first toddling 'steps of infancy, is 

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THE BRIDAL. 

about to plight her troth to a goodly youth of a 
neighboring town, and friends sincere and true have 
come to rejoice at the jo3'ous event. 

The people enter the church, which with drawn 
blinds would be almost in darkness, but for the dim- 
ly lighted lamps on the cabinet organ, placed at one 
side of the altar, that dispel the shadow and lend a 
hallowed light to the sacred precincts. 

The seats of the edifice are filled when the min- 
ister, grave and solemn, enters the chancel. Grave, 
because the lovely girl who has been a shining light 
among the people, known for her grace and meek- 
ness, is about to leave his fold. Solemn, because of 
the large responsibilities to be assumed by the youth- 
ful couple. 

Happy strains of the wedding march are sound- 
ing, when the door is closed for an instant, then 
suddenly opened and the bridal pair, not yet past 
boyhood and girlhood, move wdth measured tread 
to the altar, realizing the solemnity of the vows they 
are about to utter. 

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THE BRIDAL. 

Rich and melodious sound the tones of the min- 
ister, as they fill the room with the sweet words of 
the marriage service. Firm and happy the glad young 
voices repeat the vows. 

Quickly the brief service is ended, congratula- 
tions are said and the bridal couple have passed on 
into the great untried world. The place where the 
bride has grown from a joyous child to the dawn of a 
beautiful womanhood, and where even the trees and 
rocks and hills are dear to her, and the friends who 
have known and loved her from childhood are left, 
perhaps forever, by her, and the one to whom she 
cleaves. 






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FIRST EDITION. 



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